Unreal
by Born-Of-Elven-Blood
Summary: For years Sarah has been haunted by what Dr. Evans tells her are dream of her king, something missing within...but are they dreams or reality or something in between?


A/N: This idea just popped into my head the other day, I hope it makes sense, I wrote it at like 1 am..  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Jareth, Sarah or any other references to the plot and characters of the Labyrinth, blah, blah, blah..  
Unreal?  
  
Sarah woke with a start. She had seen his face! Though the night was warm, she pulled the covers closer around her suddenly chilled body. The dreams were back, had been for weeks, but she could not bring herself to tell anyone.  
  
When they had first come to haunt her, years before at the age of 14, her confidants had listened sympathetically, patting her hand and droning out automatic responses of reassurance. But as the dreams persisted, those she confided in began to worry. Not long after that, her father had taken her to see Dr. Evans, a thin-faced man with kind eyes in his mid-thirties, the first wisps of gray sneaking into his dark hair. Sarah had hated their meetings for a long time, allowing her preconceptions about psychiatrists to close her mind to him. But as she got to know him, she opened up, realizing that he was nothing like the psychiatrists she had heard about. He seemed real, with a quirky wit and a sincere smile, and most importantly, he never muttered 'I see' while scribbling notes on some obscure pad as though she were some kind of lab experiment that had yielded unusual results.  
  
And as she opened up to him, he made her see that the dreams were nothing more than a way of living out her childhood fantasies and making herself feel important when her father and stepmother ignored her in favor of Toby. It all made sense, but the dreams still came. Her king still came to her in the night. As she got older, the dreams became more intimate, and even erotic. Sometimes other creatures visited her, a dwarf, a beast, a tiny fox that fancied himself a knight. These, Dr. Evans had explained, were her substitute for the real friends that she had trouble finding, and the mysterious Goblin King a manifestation of the lustful urges that blossomed in every young person. He was her ideal, her dream guy, as it were, that would sweep her off her feet and make her feel like a queen. These dreams, he patiently explained, were a surrogate for something within herself that she was missing, something that she was searching for. Until she found that part of herself that she was missing, he told her, she would never be free.  
  
When she had started taking the pills, the dreams had become less frequent and then had stopped altogether. She remembered that last dream. Her king had looked so desperate, so helpless as she was torn from his arms by some unseen force, groping for her outstretched hand and catching nothing as she faded into darkness. That had been the last she had seen of him for such a long time that she was afraid she would forget his face, his eyes, the way he held her, kissed her..  
  
She might have forgotten completely if she had continued to take her medication. But all at once, she refused to go back to see Dr. Evans. She didn't like the way he had begun to sit next to her during their sessions, putting his arm around her, holding her hand. She didn't know why, but it made an intense horror creep upon her spine and settle in the pit of her stomach. When the pills had run out, she refused to go back to get the prescription renewed. And so, as the drugs relinquished their hold on her body, the dreams returned. Slowly at first, and then only of her old friends, Hoggle, Ludo and Didymus. But then, as they increased in frequency and intensity, she could feel her king's eyes on her as she traversed her dreamscape, always just out of sight or just around the corner.  
  
But this had been different. In her mind's eye she had chased him through places familiar to both of them, bits and pieces of the labyrinth, the forest, the garden maze, the ballroom, even the damn bog, right through into the Escher room. And there he'd stood, grand and immeasurable as ever, cape billowing around him, his captivating eyes holding her gaze and a small, playful smile curled upon her lips as he spoke. "My turn, Sarah, my love," he purred as she melted before him, "Now it's you who has no power over me." And that was all.  
  
Now, as she lay huddled under the covers of her bed, she wondered what it meant. It had been ten years now since the Labyrinth.the dream of the labyrinth, that is.and Sarah still lived in her father's house. She still kept the same room, but now the walls were bare of her childhood toys and memories. Closing her eyes, she wished it all away, all the years of loneliness in her bare little room, the corrupted visits with Dr. Evans, the nights of dreamless sleep and the cold emptiness she felt when she awoke. What good was all this conventional sanity if it meant a lifetime of despair?  
  
"I've been waiting for you to realize that for so very long, my dearest," a voice whispered from beside her. Opening her eyes, Sarah looked up into Jareth's mismatched gaze, knowing that she was not asleep, but knowing just the same that she could not be awake.  
  
"Oh, Jareth," she moaned and pushed herself upright in bed, careful never to take her eyes from his through rapidly welling tears, "you just aren't real!" As she said this, a sob burst from somewhere deep inside and she felt his strong arms enclose her trembling form.  
  
"But I am," he breathed, relishing the warmth of her body against his, "Your modern magic has kept us apart long enough to make you doubt, but I know your know in your heart that I am as real as you. And even if I am not, you can't deny that you want me to be." She searched his eyes, but says nothing. "What kind of life is this that you live, my love? Come back with me to where you belong. Come home."  
  
Her eyes strayed from his over to her dresser mirror. She could see her friends, Hoggle, Ludo, Didymus, even the Wise One and the Worm, among others, waving and smiling as though she had just returned from a long trip. And she had, hadn't she? After all, this had never been home. Home is where the heart is, and her heart had always belonged to Jareth. She belonged with her friends, in the Labyrinth, and with Jareth. It suddenly didn't matter if it was real or not. Looking back into Jareth's eyes, she felt a smile grow on her lips as she nodded. A bubble of delight exploded within her as Jareth's face lit with joy. Lifting her up, he twirled her about in his arms like a child, then brought her close and kissed her passionately as a glittering cloud rose around them.  
  
*****************************  
  
Dr. Evans looked up from his clipboard and gave a sad smile. He could hear his own footsteps echoing through the white tile halls, amplifying the silence of the padded prison. Stopping before one of the locked doors, he pulled the chart off the wall and read the familiar name. Sighing, he unlocked the door and walked in.  
  
There she sat, perfectly still and beautiful as a porcelain doll. He sat next to her on the bed and studied her profile, admiring the way her long brown hair cradled her lovely face. As expected, she moved not a muscle, even as he placed a hand on her shoulder. She had been in a catatonic coma for weeks now, completely unresponsive to any and all procedures. Her body was in perfect health, but it was as though her mind, her soul, everything that made her who she was had evaporated, leaving a fully functional, empty shell of a person. In the back of his mind, he partially blamed himself. He had allowed himself to indulge, if only a little, in his own little fantasies and dreams that she might fall for him, that this beautiful, intelligent and ultimately innocent young woman might be attracted to him. But no, that would never be. She was safe from the seduction of society and the modern world, driven away to a place of safety beyond anyone's reach.  
  
"Where are you now?" he asked her, brushing back a few stray strands of silky hair that had fallen over her face. She didn't blink, didn't twitch, barely even breathed. Just as her stepmother found her that morning, sitting on the floor of her room in her nightclothes, as though she had been walking somewhere and suddenly and without reason had simply stopped functioning. Like an android, or robot, he though. There was nothing physically wrong with her, someone had just hit the 'off' switch and shut her down. What had happened that night? She had always been a survivor, and he couldn't imagine what had happened to cause her to withdraw into this state of total oblivion. But then he thought better of it.  
  
As he watched her, another sad smile crept over his face. He would miss the bright, witty, aggressive young woman that had been Sarah Williams, but perhaps it was better this way. She had never been happy, he had seen that since the day they had met. Now there was the faintest curve of a smile cemented on her lips, and a gleam in her sightless eyes. Perhaps she had finally found a place where she could be happy, even if that place existed only somewhere deep within herself.  
  
He stood, feeling for all the world as if he was saying goodbye to an old friend as bittersweet tears prickled at his eyes.  
  
"Good luck, Sarah," he intoned in a gravely voice as he headed for the door, pausing to add in a lighter tone, "I'm glad you found what you were looking for. I'm glad you finally found your king." 


End file.
